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Pariah

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From Publishers Weekly
The realm of comic book heroes and villains gets a dose of realism in this whimsical debut from game design consultant Grossman. The story shifts between the perspectives of Doctor Impossible, a brilliant scientist turned world's greatest menace, and Fatale, a lonely cyborg and the newest addition to the venerable group of heroes known as the Champions. Though he's been out of commission for a while, Doctor Impossible hatches a scheme to knock the planet out of orbit ("As the Earth grows colder, my power becomes apparent, and the nations submit," he reasons). Meanwhile, Champions leader Corefire goes missing, and Fatale has to learn the ropes of superherodom as the conventional climactic showdown (at Doctor Impossible's secret lair) draws near. However fantastical, the characters (including a "genetic metahuman" and "an elite fairy guard") are thoughtfully portrayed, with Fatale—stuck in a perpetual existential crisis—bemused over the Champions' purpose, and Doctor Impossible wondering "whether the smartest man in the world has done the smartest thing he could with his life." Grossman dabbles in a host of themes—power, greed, fame, the pitfalls of ego—in this engrossing page-turner, broadening the appeal of an already inviting scenario. (June)


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Bada0Bing

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I'm a little embarrassed, but I've started this book. It's actually really interesting reading about what he did for the Rambo and Rocky movies. He's talking about how he overtrained for these movies. He got down to 2.8% body fat for Rocky 3!

Okay, this was actually pretty good. Probably nothing new for the experienced health reader, but I really enjoyed reading about the dieting/workout habits of my favorite actor of alltime.

There wasn't' really anything groundbreaking. Just eat real foods and work out really hard.

Fun read if you're a Sly fan though.
 

Pariah

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"Boomsday," by Christopher Buckley (same guy who wrote "Thank You for Smoking).

Amazon said:
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From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com

Reviewed by Judy Budnitz

Does government-sanctioned suicide offer the same potential for satire as, say, the consumption of children? Possibly. One need only look to Kurt Vonnegut's story "Welcome to the Monkey House," with its "Federal Ethical Suicide Parlors" staffed by Juno-esque hostesses in purple body stockings. Or the recent film "Children of Men," in which television commercials for a suicide drug mimic, to an unsettling degree, the sunsets-and-soothing-voices style of real pharmaceutical ads. Now, Christopher Buckley ventures into a not-too-distant future to engage the subject in his new novel, Boomsday.


Here's the set-up: One generation is pitted against another in the shadow of a Social Security crisis. Our protagonist, Cassandra Devine, is a 29-year-old public relations maven by day, angry blogger by night. Incensed by the financial burden soon to be placed on her age bracket by baby boomers approaching retirement, she proposes on her blog that boomers be encouraged to commit suicide. Cassandra insists that her proposal is not meant to be taken literally; it is merely a "meta-issue" intended to spark discussion and a search for real solutions. But the idea is taken up by an attention-seeking senator, Randy Jepperson, and the political spinning begins.
Soon Cassandra and her boss, Terry Tucker, are devising incentives for the plan (no estate tax, free Botox), an evangelical pro-life activist is grabbing the opposing position, the president is appointing a special commission to study the issue, the media is in a frenzy, and Cassandra is a hero. As a presidential election approaches, the political shenanigans escalate and the subplots multiply: There are nursing-home conspiracies, Russian prostitutes, Ivy League bribes, papal phone calls and more.


Buckley orchestrates all these characters and complications with ease. He has a well-honed talent for quippy dialogue and an insider's familiarity with the way spin doctors manipulate language. It's queasily enjoyable to watch his characters concocting doublespeak to combat every turn of events. "Voluntary Transitioning" is Cassandra's euphemism for suicide; "Resource hogs" and "Wrinklies" are her labels for the soon-to-retire. The opposition dubs her "Joan of Dark."


It's all extremely entertaining, if not exactly subtle. The president, Riley Peacham, is "haunted by the homophonic possibilities of his surname." Jokes are repeated and repeated; symbols stand up and identify themselves. Here's Cassandra on the original Cassandra: "Daughter of the king of Troy. She warned that the city would fall to the Greeks. They ignored her. . . . Cassandra is sort of a metaphor for catastrophe prediction. This is me. It's what I do." By the time Cassandra asks Terry, "Did you ever read Jonathan Swift's 'A Modest Proposal'?" some readers may be crying, "O.K., O.K., I get it."



Younger readers, meanwhile, may find themselves muttering, "He doesn't get it." The depiction of 20-somethings here often rings hollow, relying as it does on the most obvious signifiers: iPods, videogames, skateboards and an apathetic rallying cry of "whatever."



But Buckley isn't singling out the younger generation. He's democratic in his derision: boomers, politicians, the media, the public relations business, the Christian right and the Catholic Church get equal treatment. Yet despite the abundance of targets and the considerable display of wit, the satire here is not angry enough -- not Swiftian enough -- to elicit shock or provoke reflection; it's simply funny. All the drama takes place in a bubble of elitism, open only to power players -- software billionaires, politicians, lobbyists, religious leaders. The general population is kept discretely offstage. Even the two groups at the center of the debate are reduced to polling statistics. There are secondhand reports of them acting en masse: 20-somethings attacking retirement-community golf courses, boomers demanding tax deductions for Segways. But no individual faces emerge. Of course, broadness is a necessary aspect of satire, but here reductiveness drains any urgency from the proceedings. There's little sense that lives, or souls, are at stake.


Even Cassandra, the nominal hero, fails to elicit much sympathy. Her motivations are more self-involved than idealistic: She's peeved that her father spent her college fund and kept her from going to Yale. And she's not entirely convincing as the leader and voice of her generation. Though her blog has won her millions of followers, we never see why she's so popular; we never see any samples of her blogging to understand why her writing inspires such devotion. What's even more curious is that, aside from her blog, she seems to have no contact with other people her own age. Her mentors, her lover and all of her associates are members of the "wrinklies" demographic.



Though I was willing for the most part to sit back and enjoy the rollicking ride, one incident in particular strained my credulity to the breaking point: Cassandra advises Sen. Jepperson to use profanity in a televised debate as a way of wooing under-30 voters, and the tactic is a smashing success. If dropping an f-bomb were all it took to win over the young folks, Vice President Cheney would be a rock star by now.
Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
 

Hollywood

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good read?
Absolutely. It talks about what holds most people back in terms of making money. Things like your house isn't an asset but rather a liability. In short anything that doesn't generate income is a liability.

Right now I am all fired up and have some choices to make in what direction I want my life to go. Also, I am going to give this book to my brothers and sisters.
 

Hollywood

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How can your house be a liability? Perhaps if it isn't a "home"?

Liability=anything that is an expense that doesn't bring in positive income.

Your home has a mortgage payment and up keep. Unless you are renting out rooms it isn't bringing in any money. Of course you need to live somewhere so you may as well buy a house but what kind of house do you live in? Are you planning to buy a bigger house when you can afford it when the one you are living in now will do fine?

That is how your house is a liability.
 

jw7

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I am halfway to the end and cannot put it down. I am already seeing the world in a different way.

This book is a total sham. Might as well sign up for Amway. There is no "rich dad" - just a guy selling books and seminars. That's how he makes his money - not by practicing the pricnples he teaches.

Linky 1

Linky 2
 

Hollywood

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This book is a total sham. Might as well sign up for Amway. There is no "rich dad" - just a guy selling books and seminars. That's how he makes his money - not by practicing the pricnples he teaches.

Linky 1

Linky 2
Gee, maybe I should listen to this Reed guy, he seems to know a lot. Oh look he has books to sell too...
 

Pariah

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I just finished "The Garden of Last Days," by the same guy who wrote "The house of Sand and Fog."

Pretty good, though not what I expected.

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amazon said:
From The New Yorker
Dubus’s follow-up to "House of Sand and Fog" is inspired by the rumored visit of 9/11 hijackers to a strip club shortly before their attacks. In the fictional Puma Club, in Sarasota, Florida, a twenty-six-year-old named Bassam al-Jizani watches Spring, a stripper, undress, and finds his "hatred for these kufar rising with the knowledge of his own weakness." We know he is entranced, because he does not imagine slitting her throat, as he does with most people he encounters. Bassam recoils from the hedonistic pursuits of the West, yet finds himself drawn to them; losing his virginity to a prostitute, he wonders, "How many years will she be given by the Creator before she will burn?" Imagining the mind of a terrorist, Dubus runs into a familiar problem: Bassam’s thoughts are a case study in the banality of evil. "Hatred gives him strength," he writes. But it doesn’t make him interesting.
Copyright ©2008Click here to subscribe to The New Yorker
 

justAndy

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I just read "Wait Until Spring, Bandini" by John Fante.
Great story about a poor young Italian American boy in Colorado in the 30's.
Also - Catholicism, guilt, adultery, baseball.
You just have to read it.
 

Brian in Mesa

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Just finished "The Ruins." Pretty decent. Huge fan of Smith's "A Simple Plan" ever since I read a pre-release copy many years ago. Probably still the best "first novel" I remember reading by an author.

Back to Vince Flynn for me - reading "Consent to Kill."
 
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